Mark Gudgel

Mark Gudgel, Adjunct English Instructor

In his tenth year of teaching literature and composition, Mark
believes that apart from being a good husband and father, there is
no higher calling than to work in education; for him, the
definition of "education" is an expansive one.

Mark traveled to Rwanda in 2008 and has since founded a non-profit
organization to conduct teacher training in Rwanda as well as other
nations affected by genocide and crimes against humanity. In
addition, he has just returned from sabbatical in London, where he
was researching the use of labels in Holocaust education.

A testament to the potency of his travels, Mark's compelling
personal narrative, "Like a Stone," was published in Volume 14. The
photo accompanying this interview was taken the day he visited
Murambi, the setting of his narrative. Mark quips, "I'm the
'mzungu' … in the white polo. This picture was taken in 2011, in
the southern province of Rwanda. Just so happened that these young
gentlemen were up for a foot race.... They all beat me, of
course."

His experience at Murambi was anything but lighthearted in impact,
however. In "Like a Stone," Mark gives witness to his emotional
evolution at the memorial of the 1994 genocide against the Tutsi in
Rwanda. As the story unfolds, it grips the reader with an urgent,
disturbing, quiet ferocity.

Mark spoke with Illuminations about his experience and about his
belief that being true to one's own voice and perception, no matter
what the experience, is the essence of good writing.

Illuminations: "Like a Stone," describes your emotional response to
visiting Murambi, a memorial to and location of the 1994 genocide
against the Tutsi people in Rwanda. Why did you feel a need or
desire to commemorate this experience in writing?

Mark: Honestly, it wasn't about commemoration so much as
decompression. I needed an outlet or I was going to explode, so I
chose to write it down. I still don't speak about Murambi much,
even now. I've visited all kinds of historic sites, concentration
camps, mass graves, and memorials over the course of my life, but
nothing ever impacted me the way visiting Murambi did. To this day
I'm not entirely sure of why that is. Maybe the juxtaposition of
the kids playing on the hillside right outside the rooms where the
dead and I were face to face, I don't know, I had just never had
such an experience prior to that day.

I didn't write that piece with the intent of publishing it, but
when I was going back over some essays a while ago, it kept nagging
at me, and I decided to offer it up in the hopes that it might be
of value to some reader out there. The people I know who have been
there and who have also read my piece, there are maybe two or three
of those, just say things like "Yep," or "Yeah, it was like that for
me, too." Those who haven't been there...well, I'm not sure what
they get out of it. They don't often say much.